


Siamese Twin

by velvetglove



Category: Smallville
Genre: Clone Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-01
Updated: 2004-11-01
Packaged: 2018-10-30 03:35:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10868229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetglove/pseuds/velvetglove
Summary: Gratuitous clone sex.FWIW, the clones in this story are the same ones fromHuitlacoche.Originally posted in late 2004/early 2005.There's a remix of this story that's even better than this one. See end notes.





	Siamese Twin

 

Lex wakes at the click of the hotel room door closing behind the intruder. By the time his eyes open, there’s already a hand on his throat, weight behind it holding him down against the pillows. It’s a strong hand, a left hand, with long, cool fingers that squeeze tight, making the blood rush loud in his ears. Lex is slow with sleep and his limbs tangle in the sheets while the interloper crouches over him; he’s just begun to struggle but he’s already pinned, his arms going numb under the knees of his attacker.

Cold, hard fingers at his jaw hold his head still. The face looming over his is a mirror, down to the scarred upper lip.

“Hello, Lex.”

It’s his own voice, shaped by his own mouth.

“I’ve heard so much about you.”

Lex squirms, helpless, as the pressure on his throat builds.

“Your father sends his love.”

The double is using both hands now, and Lex quickly grows dizzy, his vision dimming on the image of his own face wearing an expression of quizzical good humor.

~~~

He wakes up on the bed, his throat tight and sore, his doppelganger sitting serenely in an armchair at bedside with his legs crossed, flipping through the hotel-provided Visitors Guide to Phuket. Lex’s wrists are tied together and lashed to the bedframe with the necktie he wore yesterday.

“Oh, good,” says the double. “You’re awake.”

Lex is frightened but not frantic. Although he’s wary, its notable that the double isn’t doing anything particularly menacing at the moment. Lex is fairly certain that he knows his own face well enough to anticipate threat in even the most minute shift in expression, but all he sees here is amusement, and perhaps some pity.

“Quite a surprise for you, I see.” The double shifts forward, elbows on knees. “Your father wondered if you would guess what he was up to.”

He could bring his knees up, kick the double in the head, but then what? A swallow, a deep breath, and Lex finds his voice. “I knew he was trying. I thought—but I didn’t think he’d—”

“He did. He’s very proud of himself, though I suppose that goes without saying.” There’s some satisfaction his tone, and Lex realizes that the creature also takes pride in so successfully duplicating Lex’s appearance, his voice and gestures. As if reading his thoughts, the double says, “Do you like the suit? I chose it myself when I was with your father in London. Your tailor believed that I was you.”

“It’s—” Lex clears his throat. “It's very nice.” It is nice. It appears charcoal grey, but up close its a glen plaid with threads of black and violet. Very Luthor. The rest of the outfit is nice, as well. Good shoes, too. There’s a black fedora tossed on the table and, while it's nice, it’s also wrong. Lex doesn’t wear hats.

The double pours water from the carafe on the nightstand and holds a glass to Lex’s lips. He drinks without hesitation; if he’s going to be drugged, its not as though he has much choice at this point. It hurts to swallow but the water is cool and soothes his throat. He lets his head fall back against the pillow and closes his eyes.

Lex knows Lionel has been conducting cloning experiments, knows about the quasi-success with the Dinsmore girl, but for some reason he never considered that Lionel might attempt to duplicate him. At best, he decides, the clone is yet another attempt to control him. At worst, the clone is a replacement.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, Lex.” The smile seems genuine, the eyes guileless and so very, very blue. Are his own eyes really that blue? “Your father sent me after you, of course,” the double continues, “but he didn’t consider that I might have my own agenda.”

“Or maybe he did,” Lex says. “You can never tell with Dad.”

The double shrugs, clearly not interested one way or the other. He’s looking at Lex somewhat critically, then reaches out to run a hand over Lex’s bare chest.

Lex shivers. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” His own hands come at him from a wrong angle and the sheet is pulled off his torso with a flick of the wrist. He’s wearing silk pajama bottoms that are light against his skin, hiding nothing. The double’s eyes rove over his body, the hands sweep down his torso and over the crests of his hipbones. The hand that cups his cock does so only briefly, and with a polite, disinterested touch. He swears and brings his knees up a second too late to prevent contact.

“Are we the same?” Lex asks. He’d meant to sound snide, but he finds that he’s too interested in the answer for it to come off as rude as he’d like.

“You tell me.” The double’s jacket is shrugged off and draped over a chair. He loosens his tie and pulls the noose over his head, then removes his cufflinks.

“What are you doing?” Lex tests the tightness of his bonds again, but he’s definitely not going anywhere.

“We’re comparing.” The cufflinks clink on the tabletop, and the shirt joins the jacket over the back of the chair. The belt slides out of its loops with a sibilant snick. “You asked if we were the same.”

“You could just tell me.” Lex pulls hard on the wrist restraints, making the bed creak. His feet scrabble for purchase on the sheet as he pushes up toward the head of the bed.

“I’d rather show you.” Naked, the double kneels on the bed. Lex tries to kick him, but the clone is surprisingly strong, much stronger than Lex, and has the advantage of full mobility. After a brief, wordless struggle, Lex’s pajama pants are pulled off his hips and there is a long, strong body stretched on top of his own, legs entwined with his and tensed to hold him in place. “Stop fighting.” It’s his own voice speaking hot and moist against his ear. “If you promise you’ll behave, I’ll get up.”

“I promise,” Lex says. When his legs are free, he kicks hard, his foot connecting with a hip. He’d been aiming for groin.

“Oh, fuck you,” sighs the clone, rolling his eyes. A sharp, efficient punch to the chest takes Lex’s breath away, and the double wears a small, horrible smile as he watches Lex wheeze. “I knew you’d do that,” he continues smugly. “I know how you think.”

Through the pain-induced tears that blur his vision, Lex notes that the double's cock is half-hard. He is noticed noticing and is rewarded with a shark’s grin.

All the Navy Seal hand-to-hand training in the world doesn’t help when he can’t really move. Lex could bring his knees up, hiding his few soft parts, but he won’t. Let this impostor look if he wants to. Lex feigns supreme relaxation, supreme indifference, but he is unable to hide the fearful shudder that wracks his body.

The double, seeming highly amused, swings his feet over the side of the bed and stands. “I need some clothes.” Drawers open and close, and there’s rustling in the closet. “I’ve been wearing that suit for three days.” The clone steps back into view, buttoning Lex’s favorite, perfectly-worn pair of Levis over bare skin. They fit him as though he’d broken them in himself. A shirt the color of a black iris is buttoned all the way up, casting deep purple shadows at his throat and wrists.

Lex’s suit jacket is buried beneath the double’s shed garments; the double pushes his own clothing on the floor, picks up Lex’s jacket, and takes the billfold from the inside pocket. He flips through the contents, letting the jacket fall crumpled back onto the chair. While the impostor dresses, Lex wriggles his way to a seated position, his tightly-tied wrists down beside his hip. The knot in the necktie is buried underneath the edge of the headboard, hard to get at, which is obviously the point.

“Are you leaving me tied like this?” Lex asks, keeping his voice steady. Panic won’t do him any good.

The clone goes back to the closet for a leather coat. “Yes, but I’m coming back. I need to get some things, is all. Is there anything I can bring for you?”

The solicitous offer stops Lex short. Slowly, he says, “No, thank you.”

“The situation we find ourselves in has a lot of promise, Lex. We could work together,” the double says earnestly. “Think about it. I’ll be back soon.”

~~~

Lex uses his feet to pull the coverlet up, awkwardly massing the fabric so he can face the clone with at least minimal dignity. He tests the angles sitting up and lying down, but he can’t get the knot at his wrists untied without first making it a hell of a lot tighter. He could easily swing his leg up far enough to knock the phone off the bedside table onto the floor; the off-hook signal might or might not eventually bring help, but even if it worked-what then? Does he want police involved, Thai police? What would he say? _My father cloned me and_ —what? Jesus. The complications and implications of outside involvement seem infinitely worse than just waiting to see what happens.

The double comes back with a white paper sack, things from the pharmacy down the block from the hotel. Toothbrush, toothpaste, several packs of Mild Seven and a disposable lighter.

“You don’t smoke, do you?”

“No.”

“So that’s something we don’t share.” The clone lights up a Mild Seven and says, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Does it matter if I do?” Lex asks bitterly.

“Yes, of course. I can step out on the balcony if necessary.”

Lex considers a moment. “No, it’s all right for now.”

The double smokes the entire cigarette while watching Lex. Lex stares back, and neither speaks. A final drag, then the double screws the cigarette butt into a crystal dish from the bar.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’ve completely forgotten my manners. I should have introduced myself. Joe. Joseph Luthor.”

Joseph?

Lex’s own face smiles back at him. “Yes. Joseph Alexander. Your father definitely enjoys his own jokes.”

~~~

His passport says his name is Joseph Alexander Luthor. It says he is twenty-two years old—so, then, a younger brother. Joe is actually, so far as he knows, about seven months old. He’d had a twin, Philip, at the facility where he first woke up, but Philip became inconsolably depressed and his conversation turned peculiar, and then he was simply gone.

Lionel seemed nice at first. He gave Joe lessons in all sorts of useful things, and what he didn’t know himself, he had people come in to teach. Joe knows a lot about how to run a corporation and he can speak a fair amount of Japanese as well as Spanish and French. He knows how to fence, can recite long passages of Shakespeare, and knows how to fold an ordinary piece of paper into a little origami balloon that inflates with one brisk breath—that one he taught himself. He learns quickly, whatever he needs or wants to know.

Lionel told Joe all about Lex, of course, and there were mirrors, and Joe quickly put two and two together and began to understand why he had no memories of being a child. Once he got used to the idea of being a monster, he had questions. When he asked what his purpose was, Lionel refused to tell him. When he said he was lonely and asked to see Philip, Lionel’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. Instead of Philip, Lionel brought in a little girl called Emily who was obsessed with rabbits.

There had been two things he’d really not liked, besides the loss of Philip’s company: the circumcision and the cut to his mouth. Joe had been very happy with his cock in its original state. When the doctors decided to circumcise him, he’d put up quite a fight. They hadn’t been able to subdue him, so they cornered him in a back corridor of the cloning facility and shot him with a tranquilizer gun. “I understand that’s usually only done to animals,” Joe comments. “Dangerous ones.”

The scar on his lip healed too well the first time, so he’d had to have it cut again. The plastic surgeon worked from photos of Lex, with Joe under local anesthesia and strapped to a dentists chair. The blood kept pooling in his mouth, making him gag. Lionel stood by, his eyes bright, saying _Stop complaining and swallow it_.

He was promised different things depending on Lionel’s mood, though mostly money and power. He liked it when Lionel slipped and called him son; it meant he was doing a good job. He was given files on all of Lex’s Smallville contacts; he studied, committed the facts to memory.

“You have a home there,” Joe says. “Your father hates that.”

~~~

He’s not Julian, and thank god he’s not Lucas, but Lex can’t help thinking of this man as a sort of brother. Someone else who has been tested a little too hard and long by Lionel. Joe is fascinating for any number of reasons, but Lex also wants to know what, exactly, his father might have intended by sending Joe to find him. He no longer wants to escape or call for help, but he does want to be let loose.

“You’re going to have to untie me eventually,” Lex says. “I have a meeting in the morning. It’s important. If I’m not there, they’ll come looking for me.”

Joe brings two glasses of scotch over from the bar, saying, If you tell anyone about me, they’ll think you’re crazy.”

“I know. Untie me.”

“Do we have a truce?”

“Untie me,” Lex insists.

“Let me remind you, I can hurt you,” Joe says, reaching for the knots. “I’m faster than you, and I’m stronger.”

“That’s not a truce,” Lex says. “That’s détente.” He could launch himself at Joe, attack him for the sake of attacking, even though he has no doubt he’d lose, but when his hands are free, he merely rubs his tingling wrists to increase circulation. He’s intrigued by the clone, curious, and not particularly angry any more.

Joe sets both tumblers down on the nightstand and sinks down beside Lex on the bed. He takes Lex’s right wrist in his two hands, gently massaging. Lex is surprised that Joe will do that, just touch him like he’s anyone, but he doesn’t pull away.

It’s still a shock every time Lex looks at him. The scar is newer and much redder than his own, and the eyes seem too blue, although Joe reassures him they’re alike in this, as in everything. Watching his strange twin, Lex is interested to note how delicate the face looks from some angles; how the lashes and brows are invisible in some light, like bits of gold wire in others. As evidenced during Joe’s brief nudity, there isn’t a bit of fat on the sleek body that leans against Lex, nor is there any hair. So then. A real double, a real clone.

“You’re tense”, Joe says. “Don’t you like to be touched?”

“It’s not that,” Lex says slowly. “People usually wait for permission.”

Joe’s hands keep moving, beyond Lex’s sore wrists. “You don’t intimidate me.” Hand over hand, gently massaging Lex’s forearm, then his biceps. His knuckles brush Lex’s ribs as he works. He says, “Until he disappeared, Philip and I were together all the time. We used to touch each others faces in the dark. I miss that.”

Lex tries to imagine what that would be like, to have someone you trusted beside you every night. “Of course you do.”

Joe shrugs, squeezing Lex’s shoulder, the side of his neck. “I could use a replacement.” There’s a hint of something teasing in his tone, something provocative, but when Lex looks up, startled, into Joe’s eyes, his expression is mild and polite.

Lex ducks out from beneath Joe’s hands. He stands and, with exaggerated casualness, he stretches, then paws through the bedclothes for his pajama pants. Joe watches him with a neutral expression. Lex finds his pants, pulls them up over his hips without looking at Joe, and then picks up his glass, already heading to the bar for a refill as he tosses this drink back.

“I’m curious, Lex.”

“Yes, Joe?”

“You didn’t scream.”

“Is that a question?”

Joe sips thoughtfully. “No, just an observation. I wouldn’t have, either.”

Lex thinks, but does not say, _I know_.

~~~

Lex pulls on a t-shirt and Joe follows him into the suite’s living room. By the time Joe has finished telling Lex everything he can remember about the cloning facility, Philip’s disappearance, and Lionel’s rather predictable delight in having a life-sized Lex doll to order around, the sun is going down. Joe steps out onto the balcony to smoke and Lex calls room service to order food, beer, and iced coffee that will be black, thick, and sticky-sweet with condensed milk.

When Joe steps back inside, bringing the chemical sting of nicotine with him, Lex says, “We’ll have food in a few minutes.”

“Good. I’m very hungry.” Joe smiles; Lex recognizes that smile. It’s one he uses with Clark when they’re alone. He’s only ever used it in the Kent barn, inside the cramped confines of a luxury car, or when he’s standing to come around from behind his desk. He’s never seen it, but he’s felt it from the other side; this is the same smile. Its disconcerting. Joe wears it too long, too comfortably, as he drops into an armchair.

It’s one thing to assess one’s own body from the viewpoint of inhabitant and find it satisfactory, even pleasing. Its another thing entirely to be faced with that same body as an other, to find it attractive, to watch and savor the thoughtless movements and casual shifts in position.

Lex keeps his expression neutral as Joe yawns and stretches, the borrowed shirt riding up over the smooth white skin of his belly. Joe is no Clark—it seems unlikely that Lex will ever find a form that compares favorably to Clark in his mind—but the liquid shift of muscle under Joe’s skin makes him think back to how the clone looked naked, those few seconds while he changed from his own suit into Lex’s clothes. Lex wouldn’t mind seeing Joe naked again. Lex can list a number of contributing factors: the quality of the last light coming in through the blinds, the shadowed violet of the borrowed shirt against pearlescent skin, the invisible influences of scent and body heat, but the fact remains that he’s attracted to Joe, who is not even a brother but instead another self.

He’s staring, and he’s caught: Joe is looking back at him, a very small smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Lex,” he says. “What are you thinking?”

“Tell me again—or have you even told me yet? I don’t remember. Why did my father send you here?”

“To prove that he’s still the one to beat.” Joe stretches again, exposing a broad stripe of ivory belly, then slumps back into the couch cushions. “I think I’m proof of that. To enlist you.” Joe blinks lazily. “I don’t know, really. To subdue you, maybe. He wants you to cooperate.”

“Cooperate in what way?”

“You know him better than I do,” Joe reminds him, “but my guess would be that he wants you to go along with whatever he thinks up, whenever he happens to think it.” Joe tips back the last of his scotch and cocks a brow over the rim of the glass. “I’m a shot over the bow.”

Lex pauses a moment before he asks, but he needs to know. “He must have had something specific he wanted, Joe. Did he want you to kill me?”

Joe snorts. “No. I was specifically told that I could not kill you.”

“But you could. You’re capable of it.”

“Yes. There’s nothing preventing me from doing it. There’s no failsafe.” Joe uncurls from the sofa and walks over to kneel by Lex’s chair.

“What are you doing?” Lex murmurs. He flinches, startled, but he doesn’t put down his drink. He doesn’t push Joe away.

Joe shrugs. His hands slide Lex’s shirt up, exposing his belly, and he leans in between Lex’s thighs to lay his head against the skin. Its a bit of a reach to call this a hug.

Lex shouldn’t allow this. He’s being lulled into a possibly false sense of security. What happened to familiarity breeding contempt? But instead of shoving Joe away, Lex considers Lionel’s intentions as he absently strokes Joe’s face. Joe’s eyes close and his arms insinuate themselves around Lex’s waist.

Joe’s voice is muffled as he says, “Your father enjoys risk, doesn’t he?”

“He likes to put me at risk.”

Joe’s face tilts up, and his eyes are very blue and very wide. “You fascinate him. You’re his biggest gamble.”

“I think he’d rather see me dead than have me fail one of his tests.”

Joe shrugs, agreeing. “I’m just glad to have his attention off of me.”

There’s a knock at the suite’s door. “Dinner,” Lex says softly, finally pushing Joe away.

~~~

Pad thai, sticky rice, green curry, and bottles of Singha dripping condensation were rolled in on a white-draped table while Joe lurked just out of sight behind the bedroom door. The food was excellent, fragrant and spicy, and the beer was at least cold.

Appetite sated, Lex leans back in his armchair and drains the last drops from the bottle, looking at Joe from beneath lowered lids. Joe smiles like he has a secret. “So,” Lex begins, “You think we should conspire against my father.”

Joe shrugs. “Maybe.” He’d unbuttoned the cuffs of the shirt and rolled the sleeves to his elbows before eating. Now he reaches for the collar and begins unbuttoning down. “We could have some fun with him, don’t you think?” He shrugs the shirt off and sinks slowly back into the cushions of the couch. Lex’s eyes follow Joe’s hand as it trails lazily from collarbone to the button on his jeans. Do you have something I can wear?” Joe asks politely, breaking Lex’s reverie. “Something to sleep in?”

“Sure.” Lex gets to his feet and Joe follows him into the bedroom. Pajama pants, sweat pants, whatever Joe wants; Lex indicates that he should take his choice with a sweep of his hand. Joe unbuttons the Levis and lets them fall from his slender hips to pool around his feet. Clark likes to tell Lex that he’s beautiful, but its only here and now that Lex thinks maybe he should believe him, after all.

Joe takes a pair of stripy silk pants from the neatly folded stack. “Thanks,” he says, pulling them on. He saunters from the room and Lex snatches pillows from the bed and follows him to the couch. Joe turns abruptly to face Lex and, looking very serious, slides an arm around his neck and pulls him in for a hug. “So? Decisions tomorrow?” he breathes.

“Tomorrow,” Lex agrees, breathless. He looses his grip on the pillows, letting them fall to the floor, and ducks back into the bedroom, hoping to hide his erection under cover of haste.

~~~

The suite has only the one bedroom. He’d left Joe on the sofa with half the bedding, but Lex isn’t surprised when he wakes, curled on his right side, with a warm body molded to his back. A duplicate of his own left hand comes around his hip and strokes the length of his cock, base to head, and Lex sucks in a shocked breath. “Stop,” he says unconvincingly, holding onto Joe's wrist.

“Why?” Joe is so much stronger, ridiculously strong. More strokes, encouraging Lex’s flesh to lengthen and swell.

“Because—” he begins, but he can’t think of a reason that will convince the other. “Because I don’t want you to.”

“You’re lying.” A thumb that has the same calluses as his own slides across the head of his cock.

“I’m—Jesus Christ!—not lying.” His hips jerk hard.

A rush of cooler air tingles down his spine as Joe rolls away, but then a hand on his hip pulls him over onto his back. Lex stares up at the ceiling, breathing hard, avoiding Joes eyes, as he says, “You are. Why don’t you just shut up and enjoy this?”

The situation is so peculiar, so surreal, and the face and hands and body beside him are so much his own, exactly like his own, that its difficult to think of this as anything but a very vivid dream. He closes his eyes against the double’s intense, interested stare.

He repeats to himself _its a dream, its a dream_ in rhythm with the fist on his cock, and he’s almost convinced when his own voice whispers in his ear, “Open your eyes. Look at me. I want to see you when you come.”

His eyes snap open. “I’m not going to come!” he insists, but then he does, gasping for air as a scarred mouth murmurs encouragement against the pulse in his throat.

~~~

It's wrong. Or maybe its not. Its just masturbation, in a way, and everyone knows that _that_ is healthy and natural and normal, except no one is talking about fucking your clone when they say those things.

~~~

Lex had gone to his ten-o’clock meeting with the Suthong brothers feeling oddly detached. It had been a long night. After Joe jacked Lex off, he’d made himself come, too, moaning softly and reaching for Lex’s hand. Lex should have been angry, should have told Joe to leave, but instead he pulled off his t-shirt, wiped himself clean, then handed the rag to Joe. Joe’s come smelled like his own. The t-shirt went on the floor, then Joe carefully wrapped himself back around Lex and tucked his face down against the curve of Lex’s neck.

When he looked in the mirror this morning, he saw bruises on his throat, already mostly healed but still quite obvious. Because he knows to look for them, he can differentiate the stripes from Joes fingers, the dot bruises from the pressure of his thumbs. He tried three dress shirts before finding one with a collar that covered the worst of the marks.

He’d left Joe sleeping—or, more likely, pretending to sleep—unsure what to do about him. It was still unclear if Joe was an enemy or an ally, or something in between. The fact that his father hadn’t called to gloat was troubling, also. Lex had found his attention wandering, his hands fidgeting with pen and placemat and the handle of his coffee cup. As it happened, Thaksin Suthong had misinterpreted Lex’s distraction as disinterest, and the resulting low-level panic was very, very good for LuthorCorp. They left the table with the contracts signed, LuthorCorp millions of dollars richer, and Lex anxious to return to the hotel.

~~~

Joe lounges in the bed, still naked, curtains drawn against the sun. He holds onto his cock, holds Lex’s gaze, and says, “I need to be absolutely sure. I want to know if we’re alike in every way.”

Lex crosses to the bed and sits, a leg curled beneath him, and Joe rises to his knees and leans in for a kiss. Joe’s mouth opens against Lex’s, overeager, with a clash of teeth. Lex whispers, “Careful,” and licks at Joes scar, fresh and red and tender.

Joe moans and clutches at Lex’s back. The way he’s pulling is going to ruin the suit jacket, so Lex pulls back just enough to shrug the garment onto the floor. Joe tugs at his shirt, pulling it out of his pants, and slides his hands over the bare skin of Lex’s waist and the small of his back, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his trousers. Lex wonders if he was frantic like this the first time, or the first few times, even, and thinks that he probably was.

Joe’s fingers shake, but he doesn’t fumble the buttons of the shirt. He pushes the collar back off Lex’s shoulders and bends to kiss his neck. He murmurs, “Pervert. Pervert _s_ , rather. I shouldn’t be surprised,” and Lex laughs.

“No, you shouldn’t.” This is the most blatant narcissism Lex can imagine, lying back on pristine sheets in a room that smells of jasmine and his own acute arousal, while a man who has his same eyes and mouth and hairless skin undresses him and exclaims over his beauty.

His pants are undone, halfway off his hips, and Joe lies on top of him, hips rocking and his cock sliding wet against Lex’s belly. Their kisses are slower now, less desperate. Lex licks at the corners of Joe’s lips and feels Joe’s cock flex thickly between them as he groans and thrusts his hips hard against Lex. Lex clamps his hands on Joe’s ass and grinds up against him, but slow, with deliberation. He likes the way it feels to do it; he likes the way it feels done to him, and Joe seems to like it, too.

“Up,” he says, pushing at Joe’s chest. Joe sits back on his heels and Lex lifts his hips and pushes his underwear down along with his trousers. His cock slaps back against his belly and Joe smiles, reaching for it. His fingers are dry and cool and feel like Lex’s own but for the angle. Lex pulls him back down for a kiss and says, “Touch me like you touch yourself.”

Joe lets his head drop against Lex’s shoulder and they both watch as his thumb slides over the head of Lex’s cock, the ring of his fingers sliding up and down the shaft. Joe’s own cock hangs heavy alongside Lex’s, so Lex takes it in hand and copies Joes movements. “Oh, god,” Joe says. “Fuck, oh _fuck_.”

“You like that?” Lex asks, breathing the words into the curve of Joe’s ear. “You like the way I do that?”

“You know I do.” A shudder wracks Joe’s body and a surge under the skin of his cock warns Lex that he’s about to come.

“Not yet,” he says, ignoring Joe’s wail of protest. “I want to suck you. I want to taste you.” He pushes Joe away, toes off his shoes, then kicks his pants the rest of the way off. Joe sits back on his heels, his breath coming fast and ragged, and his cock jutting up, dark and hard.

Joe’s skin is hairless and slick under his tongue, different somehow than shaved or waxed flesh, and smells of his own soap, his own sweat, his own slick fluids. The head seems silkier, wetter than other cocks Lex has sucked; the way he shudders when Lex licks at the clear drops that seep from the slit is familiar, a muscle memory, and he likes how big Joe feels in his mouth. He looks up, and Joes eyes are dark and opaque. Lex says, Touch them; go ahead, and Joe smiles, showing all his teeth, and his slender fingers tease at his own nipples. He spreads his knees farther apart to give Lex better access and leans back, hissing as Lex dips down lower, taking Joe’s shaft deeper into his throat.

He takes him deep, then pulls off, then goes deep again. There’s a spot on the underside of his own cock, the junction of head and shaft, that is exquisitely sensitive; when he tongues Joe there, he gasps and shudders. Lex does it again, and Joe pets at his scalp with a shaking hand and says, “Lex, please.”

His own cock throbs, almost painfully, as he swirls his tongue around the swollen head of Joe’s cock, always with a rub at that most sensitive point. Joe cries out as he leans back on his hands and lets his hips thrust up, fucking into Lex’s mouth. His thighs are spread wide, shaking, and Lex strokes Joe’s inner thigh with his right hand and reaches back with his left to press a knuckle against the flesh between balls and asshole. With a shout, Joes hips buck, his back arches, and his cock jerks in Lex’s mouth.

Joe tastes like Lex, smells like him, makes the same sounds. Lex grabs his own cock, and squeezes hard, willing his orgasm away.

Joe says, “Kiss me,” and Lex uncurls, sitting up, and lets Joe move into his arms. Sleek, strong body pressed to his own, every movement and gesture one of gratitude and affection. He lets Joe plunder his mouth, almost more an examination than a kiss, understanding how much Joe wants to taste himself there. When he encounters traces of himself, Joe whimpers and his cock twitches. Lex touches him, stroking, and Joe is already half-hard again.

“Do you want me to suck you?” Joe asks, voice low, sending shivers down Lex’s spine. He laughs, then says, “I might not be any good; I somehow doubt that the skill is genetic.” His fingers close around Lex’s cock and his hand slides down then up in a slow stroke. “But I’m willing to try.”

“No,” Lex says, grabbing Joe’s wrist and stilling his hand. "I’m going to fuck you instead." He kisses Joe once more, then says, “Lie on your stomach.”

Joe gives him a long look and Lex can’t tell if he’s frightened or excited; probably a little of both. He turns around slowly, then stretches out flat along the bed, letting Lex settle a pillow under his hips, looking back over his shoulder at Lex kneeling between his thighs. “I’m not going to fuck you yet,” Lex tells him. “I want to see your face when I do that.”

 _“My_ face,” Joe says, snickering. He spreads his legs farther apart.

“Yeah,” Lex laughs, “ _Your_ face. I want to see what you look like when you’re being fucked.” He runs his hands over the smooth globes of Joe’s ass, squeezes, spreads him open. Joe growls a little, and his hips move almost imperceptibly back against Lex’s hands; he’s eager.

Lex presses kisses along his spine, all the way down to the cleft of his ass, where he licks lightly before starting again at the top. He licks a little further down each time, but then skirts the tight whorl of Joe’s hole and instead licks up from the sweat-slick flesh behind his balls. Joe moans, his hips twisting against the pillow, thrusting back against Lex’s mouth. Lex cups Joes balls and says, “Lift up,” then slides his hand along Joes shaft, hard again and leaking on the pillowcase, before finally tonguing his hole.

Joe’s back arches so hard that Lex hears bones creak. He pushes roughly back against Lex’s mouth, knocking him off balance. Lex lets go of Joes cock and grabs his hips tightly, not wanting to break contact. Joe stretches out long like a cat, hips high in the air, and leans back into Lex’s touch, shuddering under his tongue and moaning in loud rhythm with his face pressed into the blankets.

When Lex takes his mouth away, Joe begs, “Don’t stop!” But Lex doesn’t want to make him come yet; he’d rather see if he can make Joe come with a cock in his ass.

He has to leave the bed to find lube, to drag his suitcase out of the closet and fish in the pockets until he finds a little bottle, old and sticky with a layer of dust. He hadn’t anticipated having any sex this trip. Joe rolls onto his back and swears at him from the bed, where he lies with his legs thrown wide and his cock thick in his hand.

“You can’t leave me like this.”

“I don’t intend to.” Lex kneels back between Joe’s thighs, squeezes a generous amount of lube over his fingers, and pushes a finger inside Joe’s body. Lex gives Joe what he likes: lots of lube, and just enough fingering to remind his body what it’s like to be penetrated. He crooks his finger inside Joe’s ass as he leans over to lick the underside of his cock, balls to head. Joe’s knees jerk up and he whimpers; Lex knows what that sound means, what _he’s_ feeling when he can’t help but cry out. That’s enough, then. Lex slicks his cock and rubs the head against Joe’s hole, shivers with anticipation at the thick moan that comes from Joe’s throat.

Lex holds Joe’s leg back and bent with his right hand, takes himself in his left, and pushes the slick, blunt head of his cock against the tight resistance of Joe’s ass.

“Relax,” he encourages. “Breathe.”

Lex lets go of his cock and slides his thumb over Joe’s hole, up and down, then presses inside. Joe gasps and holds his breath a moment, then groans with a long exhale, his muscles softening. Lex fucks Joe with his thumb, watching his face go from tense and pale to slack and flushed. When he pulls his thumb out, Joe whimpers. Lex pushes again with his cock, and this time the head breaches muscle. He stays still, letting Joe adjust. He closes his eyes and feels Joe slowly relax around him, his body accepting the intrusion. Unbidden, Joe bends his other leg, knees at his chest, and Lex sinks a little deeper.

“You like this.”

“Yessss.” Joes eyes are narrowed to slits, his head tilted back, looking at Lex over the severe planes of his cheekbones. “Don’t you?”

Lex laughs, working another fraction of his cock into Joes hole, and says, “Yes, I do. And I like to be fucked, too.”

Joe wraps a leg behind Lex’s back and pulls him deeper. “Then I’ll fuck you later.” His hips tilt and suddenly its easier. “You’re big,” Joe breathes. His shaky hands flutter over Lex’s scalp before coming to rest on his shoulders. “God, I feel you _everywhere_.”

“I’m no bigger than you,” Lex reminds him, with a kiss. Joe’s arms twine around his neck and the kiss deepens. Lex feels Joe’s cock stir between them, slick glide of the head across the dip of his navel. Joe writhes beneath him and Lex tries to think of what would feel best if it were him, which angle, and to do those things for Joe. He pushes back, elbows straight, and looks down into his own face: eyes narrowed and opaque, nostrils flared, scarred lips parted.

“Do you like,” Joe asks, breathing hard, “what you see?”

Lex touches Joe’s cheek, noting the flush, the vein throbbing over the bones of the skull. “I’ve seen it before.”

Joe likes that, mouth opening in silent laughter that turns into a moan. Lex moves hard against him, taking advantage of the sweat-slickness of their hairless skin to arch down against Joe’s erection, against a slick of sweat and semen. Joe pulls him down, biting his shoulder and neck, and pushes back. When he looks at Joe's face, Lex knows what he feels, how close he is, what he wants next, because his muscles and skin recognize themselves in the double, and its not love, and its not like it is with Clark, but it’s close and its good. All Lex has to do is touch his cock and Joe comes, head thrashing back and forth on the pillow. All he has to do is recognize how that feels and then he comes, too.

~~~

They’ve been lying awhile in companionable silence when Joe says, “That wasn’t the first time I’d done that.”

Lex had guessed that, but says, “No? With Philip?”

Joe rolls closer, and throws a leg over Lex’s, puts his head against Lex’s shoulder. “Not Philip. He disappeared before we got that far. No,” he continues, licking a kiss onto the underside of Lex’s jaw, “it was your—” He hesitates, his grip on Lex tightening a little. “Well, your father wouldn’t, but it was Dominic, and then, later, with Lucas.”

Lex feels it like a punch to the gut. He freezes, can’t breathe, and Joe shifts beside him, rising to lean on an elbow and look down into Lex’s face. “I’m not really you, you know.”

“I know,” Lex says, but he can’t make himself believe that it’s that simple; he probably can’t make Joe believe that’s how he feels about it, either.

“It wasn’t what you think,” Joe reassures him. “I doubt your father would let his drone do it to _you_ , but when the opportunity presented itself…” Joe's hand skims over Lex’s chest, teases a nipple, and Lex bats it away, his skin crawling.

“Your father told me about Clark,” Joe continues. “He showed me pictures of the two of you together.”

Together? Lex’s thoughts race, forward and backward, thinking of Clark, and of where and when; how to protect him, how to keep him safe. He can’t keep the panic from his face.

Joe gives him a long look and smiles, as though Lex has answered a question he’s long wanted the answer to, and Lex looks away.

“I wanted to know if you and Clark were lovers. He said he didn’t know. I wanted to know what that would be like, and I didn’t have Philip any more, so I asked him to show me.” He touches Lex’s cheek, a hand at his jaw turning his face so that their eyes meet. “He wouldn’t do it, but he told Dominic to help me.” Joe smiles as Lex shudders, and continues, “I _asked_ for it. I _wanted_ it.”

“No. My father? You _asked_? You couldn’t possibly have wanted him to—” Lex shakes his head, jerking away from Joe’s fingers. He throws back the sheet and gets out of the bed, stalking to the bar in the far corner, where he pours himself a generous scotch.

Joe sits up, tucks his knees under his chin. “But I _did_ , Lex. I was curious.”

Lex’s hands are shaking and his glass is empty. He pours more scotch. “I don’t want to fuck my father.”

“No one said you did.”

“Or his drone. Certainly not his bastard.”

“I know, Lex. _I_ wanted to, not _you_. They know I’m not really you.” Joe sounds unbearably smug, and Lex reaches for the switch on the lamp, wanting to see Joe’s face. “Thank god, I’m really not.”

“Were you supposed to tell me this?”

Joe smiles, and Lex thinks its because he’s once again answered an unspoken question. “I wasn’t told _not_ to.”

“My father wanted me to know?”

“I would guess so.” Joe chuckles. “He stopped short of sending a tape, of course.”

Lex thinks he’ll probably throw up. “There’s a tape?”

Joe shrugs. “He said one was made. Does it matter?”

“You know it does.”

Lex should have expected this. He would have seen this coming if he’d been clear-headed, if he’d been looking for the threat instead of hoping for a fucked up semblance of family. His father is right: he’s ruled by his emotions, and its going to get him killed.

Joe climbs from the bed and walks toward him, and Lex backs up as far as he can, until he’s flat against the wall. Lex makes a fist, but Joe catches his wrist mid-swing and then pins his left hand to the wall above his head. Lex forgets all of his physical training, forgets to be calm, and struggles futilely as Joe catches his other hand, then leans in to rub his erection against Lex’s belly.

Joe’s teeth close over Lex’s earlobe, almost breaking the skin, and then he speaks. “I want you,” Joe whispers. “Let me fuck you and I’ll tell him I couldn’t find you. I’ll tell him you saw right through me; you wouldn’t let me in.”

That’s what should have happened. He should have known, should have seen through the lies. The humiliation might kill him; its burning him from the inside out. Joe's mouth is hot against his throat, his lips and tongue slick and hungry, and Lex realizes that, while he does have choices, none of them are good ones. He’s unwilling to scream because there’s no telling what might happen if help arrives to find two Lex Luthors.

He hadn’t ever thought his father would do something like this, but if this creature is telling the truth, then it's no great stretch to consider that Lionel might champion the double. The hand pinning both of his wrists to the wall is as strong as Clark's, the body as familiar as a mirror, and the sensation of a cock thrusting against his hip makes him hard in spite of himself.

“That’s right,” Joe whispers, using his free hand to stroke along Lex’s side, his thumb tracing the line of oblique muscle, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. “You want this, don’t you?”

Lex shakes his head. “I don’t. I don’t want it.”

“Liar.” Joe’s clever mouth brushes his ear again. “I’m going to fuck you regardless, Lex, but I think you know it will be better if you cooperate.”

“You want to fuck me?” Lex asks, angrily. “That’s all? And then you’ll go? Tell Dad that I was smart enough to see through the disguise?” He tries to struggle, but he can’t move at all.

“I’ll lie for you,” Joe says, his voice seductive, wheedling. “He’ll believe me; I told you, sometimes he calls me son.” He kisses Lex’s throat, then bites him a little harder than feels safe.

Lex knows what Lionel’s reaction to such news would be: Joe dead on the floor, Dominic left to attend to the details. Doubtless the same happened to Philip, and probably to others before and perhaps even after. There’s no way that Joe doesn’t know this, too.

“You’re lying to me,” Lex says, turning his head away, arching his neck, but he can’t get away from Joe’s mouth. A licking kiss behind his ear makes him shudder. Joe presses harder, pushing the breath out of his lungs, and the sound Lex makes is too much like a moan. Joe kisses him harder in response; wet warmth and teeth sharp against his pulse.

Joe’s speed and strength make him an excellent rapist. He throws Lex face-down onto the bed and holds him there while he manages to find the mangled necktie from yesterday’s impromptu bondage session, using it to retie Lex’s wrists. He kicks out, but Joe is too close, in between Lex’s thighs with his cock sliding heavy and hot in the cleft of Lex’s ass.

“So help me understand,” Joe drawls. “Is it that I’m not special enough to fuck you? Or is it that your ass is reserved for the exclusive use of your freak boyfriend?”

“Fuck you!” Its all that Lex can come up with. He’s frightened now, because Joe seems to be just as strong as Clark but, unlike Clark, he doesn’t care about hurting Lex. In fact, he’s giving every indication that he might _like_ hurting Lex.

Joe holds tight to the tails of the necktie, and the traction on Lex’s wrists is making his fingers go numb. When he tries to get his feet underneath him to press up, Joe leans hard with an elbow in the small of his back, forcing him back down onto the mattress. He can’t move: wrists pulled back, Joe kneeling on his calves to keep him from kicking or wriggling away.

Joe reaches across Lex’s body to grab the lube, flips open the cap one-handed, and lets it drip down onto Lex’s ass from a few inches up. The cool drops make Lex flinch, the muscles in his ass clenching, and Joe slides a finger in the cleft. The sensation of a finger brushing over the sensitive flesh of his asshole sends silver sparks the length of Lex’s cock, and he bites his lip to keep from making any noise. He can’t scream for help; he won’t scream for any other reason.

“I know how much you like that,” Joe says, leaning over, mouth close to Lex’s ear. “I know you; I know how good it feels. We’re sensitive, we like ass play.”

“Fuck—”  Lex says. He was going to say _fuck you_ again, but instead he sucks in his breath and bites his lip hard when Joe pushes a finger in deep. He tastes blood and tries to focus on that, on holding his hips still, as Joe's exploring finger crooks against his prostate.

He hadn’t realized he was doing it, but he’s angry and embarrassed when Joe says, almost conspiratorially, “You can’t hold your breath forever.” He slides his finger out of Lex’s ass and then Lex feels the heavy push of Joe’s cock.

Lex squirms, fighting hard, but he’s already pinned. Fat head, thick shaft, and no hesitation on Joe’s part. It’s too much, almost. It’s more force than Clark will ever use, afraid of breaking him. He’s opened, split raw, and tries to swallow his frightened moan as Joe says, _Oh god!_ and sways up off his knees, leaning hard into the side of the mattress for leverage. Although Lex can move his legs now, any move he makes just impales him that much deeper on Joe’s cock.

Joe lets go of the necktie and Lex’s shoulders slump toward his ears, muscles tingling with pain and relief. Joes cock slides out of his ass and then an arm beneath Lex’s hips lifts him, dragging him up to kneel on the mattress. A hand on his back pushes him down again, and he quivers with his body curled over his thighs and face shoved against the coverlet. Joe reaches between Lex’s thighs, grasping his cock, and jacks him for a few rough strokes while Lex strangles on sounds he refuses to make. Then Joe lines himself up, shoves his cock into Lex’s ass, and pushes in, fast and careless. Lex can’t help the pained squeak that escapes his lips. He can’t help the way his hips twist back into Joes thrusts. He can’t help how hard his cock is, how much he wants Joe to touch it. He hates that he’s going to come from this—wants to come, doesn’t even know if he can call it rape, this impossibly dirty, hot, sexual mangling.

The voice in his ear says, “You like this, don’t you? You want this.” Lex tries to say no, but the sound that comes from his throat is just a cough and a grunt.

Joe holds onto Lex’s hips, pulling back as well as driving forward. Lex can’t take it, can’t take the intensity, and he tries to wrench himself away, but he’s caught and Joe is too strong. With each thrust, his face is pushed further into the heaped bedding. When he does come, the lack of oxygen makes it stronger, unbearably intense.

After Joe comes, he collapses on top of Lex, boneless and slick with sweat. He stays put, draped over Lex’s body, licking him behind his ear and whispering nonsense. Things like, _You can’t live without me_ , and _We belong together_. For a moment, Lex wonders if Joe is right, but it passes. He’s a little bit sticky, a little traumatized, and he’s lulled by the hand that strokes his belly, but he still takes note of the fingerprinted tumbler on the nightstand.

“Untie me,” he murmurs, turning his head to catch Joe's mouth in a kiss. “Please.”

Joe kisses him deeper and deeper, propped up on an elbow and leaning into Lex’s mouth. “I knew you’d understand,” he says between kisses. “I knew we’d be perfect together.”

“Please,” Lex says. “My hands, Joe.”

Joe rolls Lex over onto his stomach and unties him. Lex turns onto his back and reaches up for Joe, graceful and grateful and spent, arms going around his neck, under his arm and over his back, holding tight for a kiss that, despite everything, is perfect in pressure and silky wetness and heat. Their skins are slick and the sweat runs from them both, no hair to slow its course. Joe’s callused fingers splay over the back of Lex’s head, grip his neck, turn his face so Joe can really kiss him properly.

This could have been something good.

Lex moans because he feels like moaning, because this creature makes him feel things that are uncomfortable, that are probably wrong, but make his cock hard. He holds Joe tight for a moment because he likes the sensation of the slender, wiry body pressed against his own, matching at knees and nipples and clavicles.

If he wanted it, he could probably get Clark to go along with it. Clark might like having two Lexes. But it won’t work.

Joe says, “I need to tell you something.” He kisses Lex’s throat.

“What?” Lex shifts beneath him, moving toward the edge of the bed.

“Your father took me to London, but he expected me to stay there with him.”

Lex runs a hand down Joe's back, sleek and sculptural, the vertebrae and back ribs strong and separate. "What do you mean?"

“He didn’t send me. I came after you of my own accord.” Joe bends his neck in a graceful arc and his tongue flicks out, sharp and pink, to tease Lex’s nipple. “I felt I already knew you; I wanted you to know me.”

Lex squirms under the onslaught, stretching his arms overhead and arching his back while Joe licks. When Joes teeth close on his flesh, his cock twitches painfully. “You thought we’d understand each other,” he says. His heart leaps in his chest.

“We do,” Joe says, as if agreeing with him.

“He’ll be mad,” Lex warns. “He’ll send someone after you.” He wraps his legs around Joe's thighs and grabs onto the edge of the nightstand.

“You’ll protect me,” Joe says confidently. “We belong together now.”

Lex says, “Kiss me,” and cracks the tumbler on the edge of the table as he sinks his teeth into the double's lip.

~~~

Obviously, only one of them was going to be able to leave the room alive.

There was so much blood. So. Much. Blood. It poured dark and sticky from Joe's throat, coating their skins and soaking the mattress. Joe put up quite a struggle, fingers wrapped around Lex’s neck, but his superior strength was nothing in the face of the blood loss. Still, Lex passed out again, the bruises on his throat renewed, and woke with his own dead face staring inches from his own.

He had to peel the sheets off his skin, dried blood flaking off like rust. He showered quickly before he made the call; Lionel might already have people in place, and he didn’t want to be interrupted or troubled by drones doing their dirty work.

Thoroughly scrubbed and somewhat refreshed, Lex makes the call. Dominic answers the phone on the first ring. “Could you please,” Lex says, as calmly and coolly as he can, “let my father know that he’ll need to clean up this mess.”

“Lex, you didn’t—”

“I did. Isn’t that what I was supposed to do? It wasn’t as hard as I expected it would be. Maybe I’ll pay you a visit, Dominic, and show you how easy it is.”

Lex hangs up.

~~~

He ignores the messages on his cell phone and takes a commercial flight back home, leaving the LuthorCorp plane on the tarmac at HKT. He’ll never be able to tell Clark the truth, though he’ll have to come up with something to explain the bruises.

He can’t tell the truth. How could he phrase it? _I met my clone, thought he was sexy, and fucked him. I didn’t think I was cheating on you because it was me, sort of. But when he fucked me, it was rape, so I killed him in self-defense_. It’s an explanation that won’t sit easy with anyone, even his freak boyfriend.

Lex holds up his glass (fingerprinted tumbler, comfortingly intact) in a surprisingly steady hand and nods at the stewardess, who quickly brings him another scotch.

He checks his watch. Seven hours, more or less, to think up a good lie. He smiles to himself and pulls the cuff of his shirt down to hide the livid bruising over the wrist bones. He’s got plenty of time to think up a story. He might even have time for a nap.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, know that rivkat did a remix that is about a thousand times better than my doppelganger sex story. Hers has plot and fixes all the problems with SV S4.
> 
>  
> 
> [Conjoined Twin (Separation Anxiety Remix)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/40911)


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